


Alone With No One

by Moon6Shadow



Series: Who Saves Steve? [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abstract, Abusive Relationships, Angst, Blanket Permission Statement Available, Developing Friendships, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent - Abusive Relationship(s), Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Knitting, Long Live Feedback (LLF) Comment Project Friendly, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Steve Rogers, References/Implies Non-Sexual Intimacy, Reposting is only allowed for historic preservation with credit; not for personal or financial gain., Steve Rogers-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23593585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moon6Shadow/pseuds/Moon6Shadow
Summary: Steve’s relationship with his (toxic) boyfriend is empty and he’s thinks he’s alone, that no one gets what he’s going through, turns out there are a lot of no ones.-Steve's POV of 'Who Protects Steve? Who Protects The Soldiers?' before and after. It gets worse before it gets better.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Original Character(s), Steve Rogers/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Who Saves Steve? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534937
Kudos: 5





	Alone With No One

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by m-lt-ng-ld-nst-rd-st's tumblr comment on [Who Saves Steve](https://moon6shadow-my-writing-bookmark.tumblr.com/post/188772161155/anyone-want-me-to-talk-about-the-fact-that-steve) by itsallavengers:
> 
> "where's the hurt no comfort one shot that ends with steve curled up in bed with his partner, wondering how he could have everything he wants and still feel so alone,,,,,,,,
> 
> where's steve concluding that he must want a kinder relationship than he deserves? this wouldn't have been the happy ending he wanted, but things are different now, this is how it's supposed to be, and he's satisfied with it, right? he has to be, because this is all he has, and he doesn't want to lose everything again."
> 
> For the record m-lt-ng-ld-nst-rd-st I was mentally cursing you after I read that while also going ‘yes this. <3’
> 
> I mostly used that comment as a rough guild line rather than the rule, so have a roughly 1,400 word poem with angst, no comfort at the start and then hurt/comfort fix-it at the end. Although mind the tags, this got way more angst then I expected.

The pain was meant to go away after the war ended

He was meant to go dancing with Peggy

He was meant to have Bucky as his best man

If Peggy ever agreed to him marrying her

Presumptuous to think that

Too early

But he’d promised her a dance

He’d been carrying around a picture of her for _so long_

He’d _hoped_

And now it was gone

Peggy was an old woman now

Not that it mattered to him but...

She had lived her life

She had married, had kids

And he didn’t want her to see him like this

Not like...

He’s a living war relic now

He matches the face shown in museums

Hell, his face is more faded in _pictures_ then his own

He feels like Dorian Gray

Gazing at something forbidden

But the clock doesn’t restart

His skin doesn’t age while his picture rejuvenates

No. Life isn’t that simple.

He glances at his phone

More text messages from Brad

Asking him where he is

When he’ll be back

Brad knows where he is all the time now

Steve wants a chance to _breath_

He feels suffocated

He’s felt suffocated before

Lost and alone in this world

Brad was supposed to help

Brad _had_ helped

No, Brad _did_ help

Brad tried...

Steve swallows down a thousand disappointments

A thousand regrets

And feels them drop like stones in his stomach

Down, down, down where they won’t reach his tongue

This is his life now, this is his _world_

He doesn’t have time for this

He has to stay in peak physical condition

He’s meant to be running right now

If Brad is up...

No, best not to think about that

Best not to think about the pain that awaits when he gets home

(Is it home?)

Best not to think about the disappointment in Brad’s eyes.

Almost more painful than the strike of a fist

Almost,

The fist isn’t painful because it’s physical

It’s painful because it’s _him_

Because it’s from Brad

A kiss upon his skin

That leaves bruises

Of soft fingerprints that turn painful

Of a grip that edges on too hard

It’s all in his head, all in his mind

He’s practically indestructible

By human standards

It’s only his artistic mind playing tricks on him

Painting bruises and marks where they _should_ be

It’s not like Brad can really hurt him

(Brad hurting him would require strength that could shatter human bones

Brad hurting him would require _effort_ , concentrated, calculated effort)

He apologises instead,

Apologises as he bandages up fists

While Brad spits curses at him

Cries himself to sleep as Brad lies beside him spent

His body _aching_ ,

He didn’t know feeling gay could feel like this

Didn’t know how much it could _hurt_

He feels empty and full all at the same time

He’s choking on bitterness, choking on want

He wants more, more, _more_

And yet he also wants to crawl out of his skin

With want, with need,

With shuddering skin that tries to pull away, away, away from the pain

He grips too tightly sometimes

He’d almost broken Brad’s arm once

He’d apologised over and over again

Leave, stay,

_Don’t leave me_

_Please, please don’t leave me_

_I don’t want to be alone!_

He’s learnt to grip the sheets, the headboard

 _Anything_ , anything but Brad

He isn’t allowed to touch these days

He couldn’t control himself

He isn’t _worthy_

He isn’t worthy of much these days

He feels empty, empty and full all at once

Overflowing, with choking emptiness

And Brad turns on the tap that keeps him full

Bitterness and bruising ‘kisses’ filling up his lungs until he chokes on it

Until he can barely _breath_ around it,

He wants so much,

He receives so much and yet he still feels hollow

Achingly, achingly hollow

Brad doesn’t have any kind words for him these days

Everything all seems so physical these days

He wonders if it was always like this

He’s sure it didn’t used to be

But he can’t quite remember the ‘good times’

Not sure if they were real or just a dream

The way Brad used to smile at him

Or if his smile had always had that edge

(That sinister gleam)

He wants so much...

And Brad tells him this is just how it is these days

This is how the world goes round

This is how it is between men

Men’s love is physical

Men have no need for soft kisses

That bruise is all the right ways

No need for snuggling together in sheets

No need for quiet mornings with his sketch books

He’d wanted to sketch Brad once

To commemorate

It had been a mistake

His artbook, his art supplies

Destroyed and thrown away

He feels like he’s drowning,

He feels like he’s empty

He’s not sure what to feel any more

Blank, forgotten, an empty page

Waiting for something to fill it

For Brad to write angry scribbles

Shouted words and bruising ‘kisses’ all over it

He’s waiting...

Waiting in a therapy group

Because he was told to

And Brad told him, ‘he isn’t allowed to screw this up’

And so, he goes, he sits, he waits

The session ends

The room is empty

Except not quite

A soldier, a soldier with a leg propped up in a chair

Walking stick leaning against it

He has a bag of knitting in his lap

It looks like he was knitting during the session

Steve hadn’t even noticed

He’s not even sure what prompts it

He can’t really remember what the man said

All he knows is that suddenly

The bitterness, the rage, the anger

The _despair_

Is all pouring back out of him

Like black tar

Because he is alone,

Alone, alone, alone

And there is nobody else left

Nobody but Brad

And who else has been in this situation before!?

_No-one._

No-one had every felt like he has,

Nobody has ever felt the despair and angst

Of being so cut off from the world

Nobody has ever felt-

Turns out there is a lot of people called No-one

He wasn’t looking before but Mike is his guide this time

No, not a guide, a _friend_

One who walks beside him

Who lets him lead the way

Let’s him find his _own_ way

Decide which way to trace his steps

Before Mike falls in alongside him

It’s not perfect, Bucky would have known

Would have matched him step for step

While Brad would have... Brad would have

He swallows the tears back, the gasping, choking sobs

Then lets them all go

As the knit club unwind the blindfold and knots around him thread by thread

Gently, so achingly, gently so he doesn’t spook

He shakes, he shakes, and he fears he will break apart all over again

But then there is knit nights

But then there are friendly faces

And friendly sleepovers

And he doesn’t need to sacrifice a part of himself

To feel safe and warm

To feel a living breathing body close once more

To have people there to chase away the cold

They’re not the Howling Commandos

They’re not Bucky

And Ashley is certainly no Peggy

For all she is deadly with a knitting needle

And always ready to help with a dropped stitch

Or teach a new knot

Knit night is a mix mashed group of people from all walks of life

Male, Female and even other genders he didn’t know existed

Flamboyant and colourful

So many of them hurting

Refinding and anchoring themselves in the catch of a stich

Weaving the world back into being, into meaning

When it doesn’t make sense

For all that, the meaning may be nothing more then

The fixing of the drop of a stitch

When all else is gone

His fingers itch for needles and a sketchbook

He still feels empty, cold

But it’s a little less these days

And some days he even feels _warm_

Just for a moment.

A gentle kiss on the cheek

From a summer breeze

Laughter at knit night

And tea and cakes

On the pub bench

The pub owner

Gossiping with the regulars

And always ready with a drink

A glass of water, a can of coke

He still can’t get drunk if he drinks

But he doesn’t feel like he needs to now

As he doodles on a pub napkin or sketchbook

And watches the knitting needles dance

His hair ruffling in the outdoor breeze

As it whistles through the trees

And he feels he can finally breath

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you everyone for reading!! <3
> 
> #Fandom for Fun, so not looking for critics but pretty much all polite feedback including Whisper and Murmur comments are totally welcome. If you've left feedback in the form of kudos, bookmarks and/or comments I likely won't see feedback immediately, but I will see it eventually so thank you!! 
> 
> Open series to see my detailed [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) statement or see [Poetry and Short Stories](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1007304) series notes for my Blanket Permission Statement but basically, as long as you credit, yes you can.


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